


Somnial

by Insignem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hand Jobs, Human/Fallen Cas, M/M, Sliight voyeurism, Urination (not as a kink or anything), but not really, post-season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:33:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insignem/pseuds/Insignem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's little more than an idle thought that passes sleepily through Castiel's mind as he watches Dean, but as he's starting to find, sometimes the best things can come of thoughts like those."<br/> <br/>In which a late night, roadside pit-stop turns into something far more intimate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somnial

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write some peaceful, late-night-under-the-stars Dean and Cas, and it somehow turned into this. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it : )

It's little more than an idle thought that passes sleepily through Castiel's mind as he watches Dean, but as he's starting to find, sometimes the best things can come of thoughts like those.

They're stopped on a shoulder of deserted, tree-lined highway where Dean had pulled over after a quiet grunt of, “Need to take a leak.” It was the first time either of them had spoken in hours.

Castiel unfolds himself out of the car with Dean, stretching as the cool night air hits him. The sky is clear and the stars are bright through the trees; he catches the scent of asphalt and sharp hint of pine that are ever-present along such stretches of road.

Cas breathes in deeply, trying to clear the drowsy fog in his head, as he takes a stance beside Dean, just outside of the reach of the headlights. He's grown used to the odd sort of companionship in these sleepy, quiet moments, and as he slides his zipper down just a breath after Dean, he feels so human that he aches with it. The heft of his soft dick in his hand – and it really is _his_ , now, no matter how strange that idea might be – grounds him as he relieves himself, enjoying the ease of the simple release.

His eyes slide to Dean unbidden, his face just barely illuminated in the scant moonlight. Castiel doesn't need to watch, to mimic this most instinctual of actions – even in the beginning, when he first turned human, he at least knew how to do this one thing himself. But he _likes_ watching Dean; he always has. Dean's noticed, too – he's pointed it out on many occasion. But Castiel can't help himself. He likes cataloguing his emotions, picking out the anger, the heartache, the warmth and fear and worry and love – each expression that makes its way across Dean's face. He likes watching him sleep, how the lines on his face smooth out and everything else fades away. He likes watching him clean his guns and drive his baby and question people on hunts. He'll never get tired of watching Dean laugh, and he likes Dean like _this_ , likes watching him in this easy, practiced stance, likes the relaxed set of his face and the way his fingers curl loosely around the base of his dick.

And for some reason, in this moment, identical in almost every other way to so many other late-night, roadside moments – for some reason, Castiel imagines what it would be like to have those fingers wrapped around his own dick.

It's barely a thought, half-formed at best, but it's accompanied by an involuntary intake of breath, and the noise causes Dean to glance over. Castiel slides his eyes up, away from Dean's dick and towards his face. He sees the exact moment Dean realizes where he'd been looking and then takes in the expression on Cas' face; when he connects the two.

Cas is prepared to laugh it off, to zip up and climb back into the Impala and continue their quiet drive. But Dean doesn't look annoyed. He doesn't look like he's about to remind Cas about personal space, to gently but firmly tell him that guys don't look at other guys' dicks while they're peeing, like it's just another lesson on the tics and quirks of humanity. No, Castiel has had more than enough experience reading Dean's face. And this? He looks _intrigued._

Cas doesn't say anything, but emboldened, he takes a step forward. There's a question in his eyes. Dean answers it with a step of his own, raises his free hand to rest against Cas' face. They stare at each other, so much unspoken curiosity in their gazes, and then Dean rests their foreheads together, shuts his eyes and just breathes. Cas breathes too, a deep inhale full of Dean and leather and the earthy scent around them.

The familiar weight of Dean's name sits on his tongue, yearning to be let out as something akin to a groan. But he doesn't want to speak, doesn't want to break the spell, and it doesn't seem to matter because Dean – and Dean has always read him so well – just _knows_ what he needs; knows to cup his cheek with the hand already resting there and tilt his head until their mouths are just meeting. Castiel takes a deep, shuddering breath, a mad desire rising up in him at this barest of touches. Dean is waiting for him, he can tell, holding himself tensely as he gives Cas the option to make the next move, to carry this further if he wants. And Castiel _wants._

He reaches his own hand up into the back of Dean's hair and pulls his head closer, turns that feather-light touch into a full, searing kiss as their mouths press and burn. Dean makes a little gasp against his mouth and surges into it, letting go of the tension he'd been holding and allowing the kiss to deepen, to become real. Cas can hardly grasp what's happening as he tastes the sweet, slight cinnamon tinge to Dean's mouth from the pie at the last diner; as he tugs at Dean's hair beneath his fingertips and swallows the small, answering groans.

It's all too much and not even remotely enough as they somehow start moving, Dean crowding him back up against the car, their now not-so-soft dicks still hanging out of their unzipped flies. The sleepy fog is now thoroughly gone; Cas doesn't think he's ever been so alert – every brush of Dean's tongue, every graze of fabric against his hardening cock – it's the strangest he's ever felt, and also the most alive.

Castiel pushes his hips closer, wincing as Dean's zipper comes in contact with his sensitive flesh, and then Dean reaches a hand between them and wraps his hand loosely around both of their dicks. Arousal shoots through Cas, his hazy, idle thought from before now fully realized, and he tilts his head back as Dean works them together, his lips moving against Cas' neck.

It's not long before Cas is panting into Dean's shoulder, lost in the pull of Dean's strong hand around them both, encasing their lengths together and Cas didn't know anything could feel this _good._ Dean is nosing at his ear, and Cas draws back just enough to meet Dean's eyes, needing to see them as the feelings crest inside him. They're a little wide, a little shocked, but there's so much affection in them that Cas can hardly believe it; that he can't help but tremble with it.

“ _Dean_ ,” he finally rasps, and then he comes, another kind of sweet release spilling from him. And Dean fucking _smiles_ as he follows him, looking so content that it practically punches Castiel in the gut. _He_ made Dean that happy. It's a warm feeling, warmer than he thinks he's ever felt, and he doesn't know what to do with it so he laughs. 

They just keep laughing, these soft little snickers, as they clean each other up with wipes from the car. Dean presses one more gentle kiss to Cas' mouth before they climb back into the Impala, pulling away from the roadside and back onto the quiet stretch of road.

Cas watches as the stars streak by overhead, lulled back into sleepiness by the purring of the Impala's engine. There's no need for words. They have the road ahead, and Sam and the bunker await. Cas learned a long time ago how dangerous it is to put his faith into absolutes. But whatever just passed between him and Dean has been a long time coming, and he knows there will be many more quiet moments for the two of them to steal, just for themselves.


End file.
